​The single candle on the scarred wooden table flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the crumbling walls of the manor's dining room.

Dust motes, caught in the weak light filtering through the grime-streaked windows, seemed to be the only other living things stirring.

You stood opposite Kaelan, your arms crossed, the simple woolen shawl drawn tight around your shoulders. Your hair, usually a soft cascade, felt like a heavy shroud tonight.

​Kaelan, ever vigilant, stood a respectful distance, his gaze unwavering as it always was. He had just finished setting out their meager dinner—a thin stew and a crust of hard bread.

​"Kaelan," You began, your voice soft but firm, "we have spoken of this before."

​His amber eyes held yours, a silent, unyielding fortress. "And my answer remains the same, Princess."

You let out a small, weary sigh. "There is nothing left here for you. Look around. This… this is not a princess's dwelling. It is a tomb. And I am its only occupant, save for you." You gestured vaguely to the peeling paint, the chill in the air, the overall desolation.

"The King, the Queen, the entire court… they have forgotten me. Lyra wears the crown now, not me."

​"The crown matters little to my oath, Princess," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "My oath was to you."

​"A foolish oath, then!" you retorted, a rare flash of frustration crossing your delicate features.

"A binding to a ghost. What future do you imagine for yourself, staying here? You are a knight, Kaelan. You deserve to wield your sword in service to a flourishing court, to earn renown, to live a life worthy of your skill."

​He remained still, his strong hands clasped loosely before him. "My worth is defined by my loyalty, Princess. Not by the glory I might gain elsewhere."

​You took a step closer, your voice dropping to a near whisper.

"Do you not see what they are doing to you? By remaining here, by defying their unspoken command, you are sacrificing everything. You will be stripped of your titles, your lands, perhaps even worse. They will forget you, just as they have forgotten me. I cannot bear to be the reason for your ruin."

Your eyes, usually so composed, pleaded with him. "Please, Kaelan. For your own sake. Leave this place. Go to the castle, swear fealty to Lyra. She would be glad to have a knight of your caliber."

​He finally moved, a subtle shift in his stance, a slight tilt of his head.

"And abandon you? To whom would you turn, Princess, when the winter winds grow colder? Who would ensure you have food, warmth, a voice when yours is unheard? Who would stand between you and any harm, seen or unseen, that might befall you in this forgotten place?"

His gaze intensified, burning with an almost painful devotion. "My place is here. My purpose is you. If my ruin is the price of your safety, then it is a price I will gladly pay."

​You looked away then, your shoulders slumping. The argument, as always, was lost. His loyalty was a force of nature, unyielding as the Southstone mountains themselves. A lone tear traced a path down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away, regaining her regal composure.

​"Very well," you said, your voice regaining its earlier firmness, though tinged with a fresh layer of sorrow. "Then let us eat. There is much to discuss regarding the stores for winter."

​Kaelan nodded, a faint, almost imperceptible easing of his rigid posture. He pushed the bowl of stew gently towards you, his silent devotion speaking volumes.